Déja Vu
by Elialys
Summary: "I read that déjà vu is fate's way of telling you that you are exactly where you are supposed to be." MASSIVE SPOILERS FOR 3x07 'The Abducted'


**Title**: Déjà Vu

**Rating**: K

**Characters**/**Pairing**: Olivia, Olivia/Peter

**Disclaimer**: I do not own anything, no profit is made out of this story.

**Spoilers**: Up to 3x07 "**The Abducted**". MAJOR SPOILERS for "**The Abducted**" (and a bit for 3x08 I guess)

**N/A**: What can I say? Tonight's episode of Fringe simply killed me. Especially the last 5 minutes. OMG how are we going to survive two weeks?

So it's currently…3am. I started writing this at 1am. So yeah, I am very tired, and my English isn't at its best when my French brain is exhausted. But I needed to get all the angst out, so I did it.

This was greatly inspired by the sneak peek for the next episode. I don't think you necessarily need to see it, though, there shouldn't be anything really spoilerish, but I prefer to warn you. BECAUSE THAT SNEAK PEEK MADE ME CRY, it's so painful! So it's responsible for this!

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_"I read that déjà vu is fate's way of telling you that you are exactly where you are supposed to be."_

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Olivia is having a strong feeling of déjà vu, as she lies, almost motionless, upon her hard bed.

She's not completely motionless because she has started trembling a while ago, now; the tremors going through her sore body are getting worse with every passing minutes. She can't do anything but hold herself harder, arms wrapped tightly around her legs, her face buried in her knees.

And she remembers doing the exact same thing, what seems to be years ago, that first night she had spent stuck in the Dark Room. Walternate had come to get a glimpse of her trapped in here, like a scientist checking on his guinea-pig. He had ignored her pleads and angry shouts, staring at her with anything but deep contempt. And then he had turned the light off again, leaving her breathless, panicked and desperate.

In the dark.

So she had curled up into a fetal position, pressing her eyes hard against her knees so she didn't have to stare at nothing but darkness, all around her.

Déjà vu.

_Is it really fate telling me that I'm exactly where I'm supposed to be, Peter? _ She can't help thinking, and she immediately regrets it, for the deep ache that tears her apart from the inside at the simple thought of _him_.

But she can't help it. How could she help it, even if she _really_ wanted to?

He's constantly on her mind, ever since her true self has immerged from under her Alternate's memories. Funny really. He used to pop up all the time around her, when she had no idea who he was, and now, it's like this projection of him is stuck in her head. In her core.

She breathes deep into her white gown, hating the sterile scent of it, and trying not to let her deep feeling of helplessness and loss overwhelm her. But it's so hard, so, so hard…

Less than six hours ago, she'd thought she was going home.

She had made it back to the lab so easily that she should have been worried. But she hadn't. She was going home, and that knowledge alone was making her whole body vibrate. She had drugged herself and plunged into the tank, not double-thinking for a second.

And there she was, in the gift-shop again. Soaking wet and a little disoriented, but she didn't care. In her head, she was already seeing it, what would happen next. She would get herself back to Boston some way or another, and she would really go _home_. She knows she should have been thinking of Rachel and Ella, because God only knew how much she missed them.

But all she saw was him.

He would be there, and he would be real.

She would even let herself be hugged; she would slip into his embrace, would feel his protective hand on the back of her head, his fingers in her hair. She would inhale his scent and let him kiss her head and whisper in her ear:

'_You're home, now._'

But it hadn't happened.

She had crossed back against her will, barely having the time to leave a desperate message to that poor, confused lady, who surely ended up feeling very frightened and thinking herself crazy.

A tiniest part of her still hopes that she believed her and called Peter.

But it really is a very tiny spark.

She's so tired, so sore. Her body hurts all over, from her arms and legs to her throat. She knows she shouldn't have screamed so loud and so long, when she had woken up again, banging against the window, but she hadn't been able to stop herself.

Even when she had believed she was the Olivia from here, she had visited the Dark Room in her dreams. It had fed her nightmares, and most likely her vision of him, as well. She would wake up terrified, sitting up with a jolt, gulping for air, having already forgotten what had scared her so much.

But she remembers now. How could she not, when she's currently reliving it?

She knows how darkness can become so thick that it becomes almost tangible. It grows and grows, swallowing you up, until there's nothing left of you but an empty shell.

She can already feel its nasty breath against her neck, whispering that it's all over.

She has failed.

She will never go home again.

They've got her now, and they will kill her to get what they want from her. And then they would dispose of her body, like old trash.

She's shaking so hard now that even her strong hold on her legs can't contain it. And the ache inside of her is growing larger and more and more painful, invading her throat.

She can be as much of a bad ass as she wants, she can put on a strong face and pretends she will find a way out of here; it doesn't change the reality of her situation.

She is going to die.

She's going to die, and she's all alone and scared.

And considering her lack of luck lately, she's pretty sure that nobody she cares about in her world will ever know she disappeared.

She would simply vanish, as if she had never existed.

Why keep on fighting, then? Why remain strong and unwavering?

And so, alone in that Dark Room, with no other witness than the thickening blackness, Olivia Dunham breaks down. Soon, her tears are soaking the white fabric of her gown, her sobs hardly muffled as she pressed her face hard against her legs.

A universe away, a woman named Ruth Evans makes a phone call.

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**N/A**: Ruth Evan is the name my exhausted brain gave to the cleaning lady who calls Peter.

I really don't have much more to say. Like I said, just needed to externalize all the anguish that the episode left in me.

Reviews are always nice ;)


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